Chapter Seven #3
As she drove over to her mum’s, Rosie couldn’t help worrying about leaving Connor in that state; she’d already decided she needed to check in again tomorrow.
Even though he wasn’t her responsibility or even her landlord, she did feel sorry for him and he was clearly suffering.
As she pulled up onto her mum’s driveway, she noticed another car parked in front of the garage.
She wasn’t exactly dressed for company, but she recognised the car.
‘Hello, darling! It’s wonderful to see you again!’ Her mother always greeted her as though she’d been reported missing for the last five weeks, and Rosie couldn’t help but smile. ‘Come and see who’s joining us for dinner!’
‘Hello, Anna.’ Rosie dutifully greeted the mystery guest. ‘Sorry I’m in my jeans, but I’ve been gardening all day.’
Anna patted the sofa. ‘Simon mentioned you had a new interest. Come and tell us all about it, and I want to hear about the famous Connor Forbes too.’
Knowing how Anna shared Simon’s enthusiasm for celebrity TV programmes, Rosie was unsurprised he had passed on this particular piece of gossip, but she didn’t mind Anna knowing. She was like her second mum, and Rosie had known Anna almost all of her life.
Her mother and Anna had first met at the local toddler playgroup and had brought their children up together.
Rosie’s mum was the one you went to when you needed practical advice.
Simon’s mum was the one who would be ready with the tissues and hugs when life got difficult.
Even after Rosie married James, she still kept in touch with Anna and of course she saw Simon at work.
It was Anna who had suggested Simon tried to find her a job at Pennewicks after she dropped out of college following the death of her father.
She understood that the sudden bereavement had brought Rosie running back home not only to comfort her mum, but also to feel the security of living in a familiar place, and to be in the town she knew and loved.
Everywhere for Rosie reflected happy memories of her time with her dad, whether it was mingling with tourists in the Old Town on shopping trips, strolling along the scenic riverside or exploring the Abbey ruins on Sunday afternoon picnics.
Rosie kept the description of her garden to the basics: size (smallish), scope (lots), location (near the railway line), and carefully avoided any mention of the words jungle, overgrowth or brambles.
However, as they sat down around her mum’s dining table, the subject of the garden’s owner loomed large.
‘So come on, Rosie, what’s he like then?’ said Anna excitedly. ‘Is he just as gorgeous as he is on the telly?’
‘I have no idea,’ she replied truthfully. ‘I’ve never watched him on the telly. In fact, I’ve only met him twice. Once to view the garden and once today as I was dropping something off. Anyway, enough of me, how’s your new job going?’
Either Anna recognised Rosie’s reluctance to discuss Connor Forbes, or she was too eager to tell them all about the job.
Either way, Rosie gave silent thanks to her mum’s garrulous friend for the seemingly endless tales from Haxford General Hospital where Anna worked as a staff nurse in Outpatients Department.
As the chatter washed over her, her thoughts trailed back to earlier this afternoon and her meeting with Connor.
It was hard to tell how ill someone was based on a short acquaintance, but one thing that wasn’t in doubt was his attractiveness; she could quite easily see how young girls might fall for those dark intense eyes and smouldering good looks.
Thankfully she was past worrying about that now, and the idea of going dating and trying to impress someone else did not appeal in the slightest. She’d had security and loyalty with James and that, in her book, scored a lot higher.
In any case, based on the reputation he seemed to have acquired, Connor was probably the sort of person who had girls throwing themselves at him every day of the week.
Rosie was pulled out of her thoughts by the mention of her name, and realised with a start that she had no idea who had just said what.
‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘Anna was telling you about a new appeal at the hospital.’
‘Oh, yes, sorry. What are you raising money for?’
Anna smiled. ‘Yes, you’d be forgiven for thinking all appeals were about money, but Little Angels is a bit different. We want people to make things, which is why I thought of you straight away, being so clever with a needle and thread.
‘The appeal is called Little Angels because it’s for babies that are born too soon or are stillborn.
’ She clasped her hands together delicately.
‘You know, every parent dreams of having a perfect full-term baby, but for some that dream turns into a nightmare. Instead of planning a christening or thinking ahead towards a first birthday party, the bereaved, distraught parents suddenly find themselves planning a funeral, with the added problem that shops simply don’t have the tiny sizes that are needed for dressing their baby, and sometimes the parents have to say their final goodbyes with their baby wrapped in a hospital blanket. ’
Rosie thought about all the rows of baby clothes in Pennewicks childrenswear department. She had hoped one day to be buying those adorable outfits too. Instead, she ended up planning a funeral for her husband.
‘So, how do you get the materials? And what sizes do you make?’ Katharine asked.
‘People donate dresses or leftover material. Sometimes people knit things. We need all sizes as some pre-term babies can weigh less than a pound. When they’re very tiny, they can be too delicate to dress, so we ask people to make miniature cribs or wraps as well.
In many instances, these parents only get one opportunity to dress their little ones, and giving them a beautiful gown that has been lovingly handmade is a precious gift.
Nothing ever takes away the pain of losing a child, but being able to provide a beautiful handmade outfit for their baby’s funeral is one less thing for the parents to worry about, and in a strange way, it means they know someone else is thinking about them, and about their loss, and it really does help. ’
‘I’m sure Rosie would be delighted to help,’ said Katharine, as though Rosie was ten years old and had just been asked to make gifts for the Brownies’ Christmas Fair.
‘I’ll keep a look out for any suitable dresses in the local charity shops.
I’ve probably got one or two myself that I no longer use, and Rosie is always so clever at adapting things, aren’t you, darling?
’ She peered across the table at her daughter.
‘Rosie? You’re looking flushed, are you okay? ’
Rosie took several deep breaths, but the memories she tried hard to keep locked away stubbornly resurfaced, prodded into the light by one unwitting remark.
Nothing ever takes away the pain of losing a child…
She would have been two years old now. Walking. Talking. Going to nursery. Instead, Rosie had been left with a suitcase of baby clothes that had never been worn. She pressed her hands against her cheeks and kept her gaze fixed downwards. Why did she still feel such an acute sense of failure?
She became aware that Anna was sitting next to her, and she took Rosie’s hands in hers.
‘Has this upset you? I’m so sorry, that wasn’t the intention, but Katharine thought it would be a nice project for you. We won’t talk any more about it if you don’t want to.’
‘No!’ Rosie shook her head. ‘That’s always Mum’s way.
Don’t talk about the difficult things, just keep busy, do something else, and it will all feel better.
’ She turned and looked at her mother. ‘You know what? It doesn’t feel better and it never has.
That’s why I never told you. Because I don’t want to forget – why should I want to pretend it never happened? ’
Katharine stared back at her daughter. ‘Oh, darling, I know things have been so hard for you losing James, and nothing I say can bring him back, but I thought I could help in other ways.’ She gestured helplessly.
Anna slipped her arm around Rosie’s shoulders. ‘I don’t think you’re talking about James, are you?’
Rosie shook her head as the tears she’d been holding back finally broke free and cascaded down her cheeks.
‘Why don’t you tell us what happened, so your mum and I can understand?’
Rosie allowed herself to be led into the sitting room where they sat either side of her – her two mothers – and she finally blurted out the whole story.
How she had unexpectedly found herself pregnant and how James had been very shocked by her announcement.
They’d been saving for a deposit so they could buy a house and James was concerned about the cost of a baby, but over the following weeks he had gradually come round to the idea of being a parent.
Rosie had secretly begun buying baby clothes even though she was only in her first trimester, and was studying every article online about pregnancy symptoms.
She explained how it wasn’t until after she had booked her twelve-week scan in mid-November that James announced he had an important conference that week, which his firm were paying for and which he had to attend.
Rosie had been disappointed, but was so wrapped up in her own baby bubble that the disappointment didn’t linger.
Instead, she took Emma with her. And it was there, at the maternity clinic with all the other pregnant women, that she learnt her baby had died.
Emma took her back to the hospital two days later in a state of shock.
By the time James came back a few days later it all just seemed like a bad dream.
‘But, darling, why didn’t you tell me? I’m your mother, I would have understood.’
Rosie shrugged. ‘When James got back and I told him what had happened, he said it was better not to dwell on the past. I tried to talk about it, but James thought we should put it behind us and move forward.’
‘And then I started talking about the Little Angels project and probably brought back a lot of dreadful memories for you.’ Anna took her hand. ‘I’m sorry.’
Rosie shook her head. ‘No, it’s not your fault. I wanted to tell you, Mum, but I felt too ashamed. As if I failed her.’
‘Darling, I’m very sorry that you didn’t feel able to talk to me at the time, but please remember you’re my baby and I’m always here for you.’
‘I know. Thanks, Mum.’
She turned to Anna as she wiped her face with her fingers. ‘But I would like to help. I know what this feels like and I’m happy to make something.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Send me the details of what you need and I’ll hunt out some material and see what I can make. If nothing else, it will keep me occupied over the winter.’